Cats and Kings
by Anti-Logic
Summary: Keep the smirk, now. They love you, but they wouldn’t dare to look you in the eye. You are separate. You are perfection. You are alone. Azula.


A/N: Spoilers for Boiling Rock. I'm really starting to love these Azula drabbles…

As you read this story you will find a strange lack of cats. I'll write a oneshot of your choice if you're the first one to figure out what the title means.

This is a vague continuation of my other fic, "Breathing Exercises." You don't have to read that one to get this, but I'd highly recommend it. It adds a whole new dimension to the end, and the slim possibility of a chapter fic. I don't own Avatar.

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The sound of cheering filled her entire being, lifting her until she floated above the world and its petty inhabitants. The palanquin that bore her moved with the gentlest of rolling motions as the four men took each step. Each shouldered a sturdy pole, lifting her rich tent into the view of the cheering commoners that lined the streets of the capital. Her posture was regal as she sat cross-legged at its entrance for all to see. She wore a smirk as always, but this time her face was tinted by the flush of victory in the bright sunlight.

They had won.

The Avatar was dead, the cycle broken entirely. She herself had delivered the final blow. It had been exhilarating, the cold flame of the lightning coursing through her and into his glowing body – his fragile little body. He was just a boy, after all, a boy who had had the world's ultimate trust. How foolish they all were. How could he have won against the mighty Fire Nation? Against _her? _

The cheers of her citizens grew more ecstatic as the musicians began a bright, fierce victory tune. She was the perfect princess to them, the one who had completed the task set before them by the Spirits themselves. Now they would share their greatness with the world. She maintained this perfect image and made eye contact with none. She was to be separate, more than any mere mortal. A sheet of burning ice would divide her from them, exalting her to new, unquestionable heights.

It didn't matter that Ty Lee and Mai had joined the enemy in the final battle, she firmly decided. She had all that she had ever wanted right here, and she had gotten it all on her own. They would rot, along with her vile brother, in some hole in the earth until they died from the torture inflicted on them daily. She wanted them to _suffer. _She wanted them to be whipped and beaten and scarred until they _left, _until they removed themselves from her head and her dreams. She would have none of that, now. She was above every one of them. They would _not _haunt her.

The palanquin lurched slightly as one of the men stumbled. She had to restrain herself from leaning around the front flap and burning him herself. Dignity now. That idiot of a Water Tribe warrior would learn his lesson simply from this task. He'd learn some humility, something he'd never had when he traveled with the Avatar. Where the boy's other wretched companions were, she couldn't care less as long as they were being reminded who had _won. _This was more of _her _victory than it was of her father's, wasn't it? They would know who had ordered their punishments. They would know that she had come out on top, that to her they were insects beneath her feet.

She needed that.

She had clung to her rage and her superiority the day her friends had betrayed her, and now it was all she had left. No, that wasn't right. She had the world, didn't she?

_You have always been a remarkably good liar. _

Her uncle's voice echoed unbidden in her head. It angered her; there was no need for him now. No need for him to repeat the last words he had spoken to her before death by her father's hands. The words that had come in reply to her proclamation of pride, of happiness, of independence of all others. How _dare _he call her new life a lie?

Keep the smirk, now. They love you. They love you, but they wouldn't dare to look you in the eye. You are separate. You are perfection. You are alone.

This was beginning to bore her. There was only so much adoration one could take before it became dull. Her eyes swept through the crowds once more, skimming past their faces without allowing them the grace of meeting her eyes. It didn't matter, though – no one tried. Every single face, every single person old and young, averted their eyes from her own even in the midst of their frenzy.

All except for one.

A small girl, dark hair parted in two and messily splayed before her shoulders, stood near the front of the crowd. She may have been standing with her mother and father, but as far as Azula was concerned she was the only one in the entire crowd. Because she, solemn beyond her years, did not avert her eyes. They shone with an intensity and a wisdom that was so very wrong against her small face, and she hated it. She hated it, and hated her, and hated her eyes. So familiar in their glinting gold.

The eyes of her brother as he confessed his doubts by the beach, reflected in a pillar of roaring fire born of his frustration.

The eyes of Mai as they coolly met her own, weapons raised and glinting in the sun.

The eyes of someone who _knew. _

They saw through beautiful faces and patriotic hymns, beyond the seeming perfection of their nation and…and her own façade. This small girl was taking her wall of burning ice and _obliterating _it, wise eyes revealing her to the world.

You're a fake you're a cheat you're a murderer. You are alone.

The palanquin moved on and the small girl was soon out of sight. But those eyes – those horrid, wretched, perfect eyes – stayed. The eyes stayed, the commoners cheered, and the world marched on.


End file.
